


a very jackson (christmas) reunion

by fishtory



Series: pjo christmas 2019 [1]
Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan, The Trials of Apollo - Rick Riordan
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Christmas Party, DO NOT READ IF YOU HAVENT READ IT, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, MAJOR SPOILERS FOR THE BURNING MAZE, One Shot, Past Character Death, Paul Blofis is a good father, Post-The Burning Maze (Trials of Apollo), Post-The Heroes of Olympus, Post-The Trials of Apollo, Sally is a good mom, The Burning Maze Spoilers, bianca was mentioned because of a ex-friends au, but shes gone now and we're all kinda glad, canon character death, christmas 2019, i love paul blofis if you couldnt tell, it's fine because he's in a toaster?, more like one shit, that's just me being salty, the seven (heroes of olympus)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-19
Updated: 2019-12-19
Packaged: 2021-02-24 16:20:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21860848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fishtory/pseuds/fishtory
Summary: Percy's invited his friends over for a Christmas celebration that Sally will never forget.
Relationships: Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson, Hazel Levesque/Frank Zhang, Jason Grace/Piper McLean, Paul Blofis/Sally Jackson
Series: pjo christmas 2019 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1557136
Comments: 6
Kudos: 77





	a very jackson (christmas) reunion

Sally could give up a lot of things in life if it meant living a peaceful, carefree life with her family. She could give up the gods and monsters, she could begrudgingly give up her favorite sweets, and she could even throw her grandfather’s typewriter out of the window.

Mm, maybe not the typewriter.

But if there was one thing that Sally Jackson could  _ never _ let go of, it was the makeshift family that the chaos brought into her home every year. They were the kids who saved the world every other day, the kids who should’ve been in school or hanging out at an arcade instead of vanquishing ancient evils. They were the children of gods who’d long forgotten what it meant to be a  _ parent _ past checking in on their funerals.

God, that’s a depressing thought.

Most importantly, in Sally’s opinion, they were the people who brought her son back to her when he went off on some crazy adventure. They were the reason she could sleep at night knowing that he was with people who cared about him and would do everything in their power to protect him. (Not that Percy needed people to protect him, but the thought is always nice.) So she did what she could to thank them for that.

Speaking of which…

“Paul, dear, could you hand me that—” Sally twisted her torso to gesture vaguely behind her. Her husband looked up from his book, looking around frantically for a moment; his gaze locked on the oven mitts sitting on the counter, and he tossed them to her. “Thanks.” She said, slipping them on and prying the oven open.

She carefully removed the sheets of cookies from the oven — they were those standard sugar cookies from Walmart with those cute festive patterns printed on them — and placed them on the counter.

Paul peered over her shoulder. “Those look great, Sally.” He said, his free hand snaking around her side to grab one of the cookies. Her gaze shot down and locked on his hand and it froze. “Or,” he suggested, slowly backing away from the cookies, “I could wait.”

“That sounds like a good idea.” Sally agreed. She tossed her oven mitts on the counter next to the sheets, then paced over to him. She dropped her head onto his shoulder and gave a deep sigh. “Percy will be back with the rest of the kids soon.” She told him. “ _ Then _ we can eat cookies.”

Paul closed his book and placed it on the counter. He didn’t say anything, just wrapped one arm around her shoulders and lowered his head on top of hers. There, in the quiet of the kitchen with the man that she loved, Sally was reminded of one more thing she didn’t think she could live without.

She’d been drowning when she met Paul. Drowning in work, drowning in worry all the time, drowning in the memory of the man she married to protect her son. When Gabe was finally gone —  _ finally gone _ — Sally felt everything that she’d been keeping to herself over the years. The pain, the frustration, the sheer  _ anger _ at the gods for putting this weight on their family. For putting them through  _ so much _ because they lack the ability to keep it in their pants. And she knew that Percy felt it, too. He felt the same things she did, and Sally could see that her son was struggling. But eventually they started to pull themselves out of the mud.

Sally figured they were free the moment Gabe opened that freezer to find himself another beer, figured they were free when she sold the statue. But there was nothing more refreshing than  _ finally letting go _ . (Gabe, she would’ve let go if she saw it as an option. God, Sally would’ve fought monsters  _ herself _ if she could’ve.)

Then she met Paul. She wouldn’t say it was love at first sight, necessarily, but it was close. God, she’d just been out at the library to check a date for her book signing. And let’s be real here — if someone told her she’d meet her future husband in the children’s book section of a rickety old library in Manhattan, she’d have laughed.

She remembered that he wore a beautiful sweater that day — crimson, with intricate gold leaves printed all over it. He stood a little hunched over, squinting as he scanned the books with laser-like focus. One hand was stuffed in the pocket of his slacks, the other brushing the spines of the books he was so deeply invested in. Sally knew from that first glance that he was an avid reader, that he, too, could lose himself in a book’s first page. That he could dive so deep in a book that he wasn’t sure if he’d ever come back up for air, wasn’t sure if he wanted to.

Then he turned and smiled at her, and Sally almost dropped her bag.

“I’m a teacher,” he explained. “Just looking for something for my students. I swear I’m not here for myself.”

She was pretty sure their faces were both the same shade of his sweater. “Oh, that’s alright.” Sally said. “There’s nothing wrong with a little childish hope.”

The man's smile grew wider, and if Sally's face could've gotten any more red it would have. "We all need it sometimes." He agreed, turning to pluck a few books off of the shelves. "Take care now."

And that was it. The conversation was short, not even a minute, and he said ‘take care now’ and he was gone. Sally was hit with some emotion she wouldn’t have known the name of, it’d been so long since it’d paid her a visit. She wouldn’t have recognized it.

She met him again at a writing seminar. With her first draft finished and a set of writing courses behind her, Sally was aching for more experience, aching for more  _ things _ to add to her writing. When he sat next to her, she almost didn’t recognize him — though it’d only been a few months, he looked much more tired. There was much more grey in his hair, which she could relate to. But he was wearing the same sweater he’d been wearing at the library, and there was no —

“Hi,” she said before she could stop herself.

Confusion flickered across his face as he turned to look at her, and for a moment Sally was afraid he might not recognize her. But then a smile broke out onto his face. “You’re the woman from the library!” He said. “Fancy seeing you here.”

She waved dismissively. “I’m taking classes while I work on a book. And speaking of which, did your students enjoy them?”

“Hmm?”

“The books,” she reminded him, “from the children’s section. The books that were for your students, not for you?”

Realization dawned on him, and his face turned red. He averted his gaze as he stammered, “Ah, yes. Those books. Yes, the, ah, students… enjoyed them.” He paused, then looked back over at her and held out his hand. “I’m Paul, by the way. Paul Blofis.”

Sally shook his hand. “Sally Jackson.”

She wasn’t entirely sure how the went from chair neighbors at a seminar to being  _ married, _ but she wasn’t complaining in the slightest. Paul, she’d discovered quickly (if she hadn’t already known it), was essentially the most amazing and astounding man she’d ever met. And she knew that Percy saw it, too — even if he was a little wary and uncomfortable at first, they’d grown on each other rather quickly.

_ Like mold, _ Sally thought sometimes,  _ or fungus. _

They had this… strange way of getting into trouble. Like when they went to the grocery store and stumbled back inside laughing, covered in monster dust and without anything they went to buy because they thought a random hellhound on the street was Mrs. O’Leary. Or when Sally had to go out for a few days for a book signing. She’d come home to see the house a  _ wreck _ because they’d basically been playing HALO: Reach for three days straight. (She figured the only reason she knew that was because they were both passed out on the couch and the game was still playing. Not hard to put together.) And that was just the tip of the iceberg.

A knock on the door knocked her out of her thoughts.

_ Speak of the devil. _ Sally thought. She lifted her head from Paul’s shoulder, who smiled and winked at her (her poor heart) as she grabbed her tray of cookies. “You behave, now.” She told him.

Paul raised his hands in a surrendering gesture. “No promises.” He told her.

Seated before her was probably the strangest group of children she’d ever seen. Though she supposed it was unfair, calling them kids — they’d grown up since the last time she saw them, had matured so much that they were basically adults.

And in some cases legally, but that’s hardly the point.

They took up the entire room though there were only seven of them. Almost everyone was clad in a (disgusting) beautiful orange and purple sweater that she remembered were made by Hazel. She was wearing her own, actually, and Estelle was sleeping in hers. The cookies had been devoured hours ago — now they were chatting like they’d never been apart, like their quest and time together had never ended. Her son was on the couch, his legs hanging off the side — Annabeth was leaning on him with her eyes closed and a light smile on her face. Their entwined hands were lodged between them in a way that couldn’t have been comfortable. Next to them was Frank, who was studying the last cookie like he was trying to turn into it so he could have more of them. Reyna sat on the other end of the couch, leaning forward with her hands clasped in her lap. Sally found it a little strange, seeing Reyna without armor. She’d always imagined that when they met, Reyna would be wearing golden armor with a beautiful, flowing purple cape behind her. She’d be telling her that her son was causing problems again and that if he didn’t stop, she’d probably skewer him. Instead, she was silent — she wore one of Hazel’s sweaters with light blue skinny jeans and fuzzy elephant-patterned socks.

Nico sat on the floor in front of the couch, leaning against its frame. He looked as if he’d never been more comfortable, except for the fact that Percy kept kicking him (read: nudging him). Sally, out of the corner of her eye, kept seeing the son of Hades smacking him. Next to him was his sister, Hazel — she sat straight with her legs crossed, looking less like a child at Christmas and more like a soldier at a war meeting. She remembered having them over last year, along with Bianca.

Sally couldn’t find it in her to care that Bianca wasn’t here.

The last person she saw was Leo. God, whenever she saw that kid Sally wanted to hide things. Not because he was a thief — god, no, of course not. He might’ve been one of the sweetest kids Sally knew. But he always radiated this pure  _ energy _ that made Sally think he was going to burst into flames at any given moment, and it made her want to throw out anything flammable in the house lest he take her apartment down with him.

Paul was situated in her chair, so she situated herself on the arm.

“And then,” Leo said quietly, leaning forward with a flashlight shining underneath his chin, “I found him…” He paused, holding up one hand like he was calling for some drama. Which, Sally figured, he was.

The pause went on for a solid minute.

Hazel twisted her body to the side, squinting close to Leo and waving a hand in his face. “Hello, earth to Leo? Can you — ” 

“IN THE TOASTER!” Leo yelled, right in her face. Hazel screamed, jerking her entire body away from him and nearly landing in Nico’s lap. Laughter broke out amongst the rest of them — Hazel’s face was turning redder by the minute, and Nico was trying to do the brotherly thing and comfort her. The gesture might’ve been lost in that he, too, was laughing.

“You’re a traitor.” Hazel told her brother.

Nico just shrugged. “Yeah, but it was funny. And besides,” he pointed a finger at Leo, “that’s impossible. You can’t summon ghosts without one of Hades’ kids. That would be stupid and completely defeat the purpose of us having dead people powers.”

“Haven’t you heard of Ouija boards?” Reyna broke her silence, and everyone looked over at her. She swept her gaze around the room and raised an eyebrow. “Just because I was Praetor doesn’t mean I’ve no window into popular culture. I had a  _ bit _ of a childhood. I know what a Ouija board is.”

“That surprises me more than this entire story — ow!” Percy yelped. His head swiveled and he looked at Annabeth in shock. “Did you just kick me?”

Frank coughed into his fist and said, “That was me.”

Percy visibly deflated. “Oh.” He said. “Then I’m very proud of you, Frank. Anyway, everyone knows that Ouija boards don’t work. No ghost — especially Jason — would be caught literally dead following one of those things. It’s way too cliche. If you _ really _ want to talk to a dead person, you’ve gotta take a  _ Happy Meal _ — ”

“Percy, that was _ completely circumstantial _ and I  _ told you _ that any type of food would work — ”

The banter continued for another half hour, and Sally didn’t know that she could wish her son more than this. Though she despised the quests that the gods sent Percy on, she couldn’t help but be grateful, too — through everything the gods had put her boy through, he was never alone. She’d once told him that he would  _ always _ have someone in his corner, and these kids… god, these kids had made that true. Even when his mother couldn’t be there for him, there were people there to support him, people to help guide him on the right path.

They weren’t exactly related in the traditional way, but these demigods had become family to them.

After a while, the conversation seemed to calm down. Everyone sat mostly in silence, just enjoying the company of the people they cared about. In those moments, Sally could almost _ feel _ the love in the room. The love these demigods had for one another, the love for the family and the friendships they’d put together… but still, there were pieces missing. And she could feel the love for them, too.

Finally, Frank broke the silence. He cleared his throat and asked, “Any word from Piper?”

Annabeth had peeled herself off of Percy’s arm and raised her hand midway to answer. “She’s doing better. Decided to spend Christmas with her dad this year, but we invited her. She said something about a tradition, and I didn’t…” She trailed off for a moment, her voice wavering a little. She gripped the edge of her sweater tightly. Frank, bless his soul and send him straight to Elysium, placed a calloused hand on hers. She shot him a grateful smile and took a deep breath. “I didn’t want to press, you know? But I told her we’d be here if she needed anything, obviously, and to give me a call later.” She looked up at the rest of the group, then glanced over at Reyna.

Reyna cleared her throat and nodded. “She’ll be fine, given time.” She promised. “It won’t go away, but she’ll be fine. We’ll  _ all _ be fine.” She added, more forcefully this time as if she was trying to convince herself of it. The rest of the demigods muttered a quiet agreement.

“Hey, Valdez,” Nico said, quickly changing the subject. He gestured at something behind the son of Hephaestus. “What’s in the box?”

Leo’s head shot up and he almost dropped the mix of wires in his hand. “What?” He asked, looking around wildly to find what Nico was gesturing at. Eventually he got the message, though. “OH!” He twisted to lift the box from behind him — it was just a plain cardboard box, about the size of a —

“Oh, god.” Paul said, breaking his long silence. “Is that — ”

“THE TOASTER OF DOOM!” Leo boomed, and no one laughed this time. Leo frowned. “Tough crowd. Anyway, no, it’s not the toaster of doom, though that is a real thing. It’s gifts! From your truly, the Taco Typhoon!”

Fear surged through Sally. She didn’t think she could wear another ugly Christmas sweater out in public. God, the sheer willpower it had taken to bury  _ this one _ at the bottom of her dresser was indescribable. If she had to add another one to her clothing calendar… I mean, she would, but at what cost?

“Okay, so my question still remains. What’s in the box? More sweaters?” Nico asked, sounding about as terrified as she felt.

“Nah.” Leo replied as he dug a screwdriver out of his pocket. (What?) He held it high like a sword for a moment, then set about slicing the box open. “I figured nothing could top Miss Levesque’s sweater skills, so I didn’t even try. I ordered these bad boys online.”

“With what money?” Reyna asked.

“Oh, Ricardo,” Leo shook his head. “If you have to ask, you’ll never know. Now,” he continued before Reyna had a chance to object, “watch and be amazed.” Leo tossed the screwdriver on the floor next to him and ripped the box open, digging out the packing material until he finally got to the jackpot. “BEHOLD!” He said. “THE POWER OF THE INTERNET!”

When Leo dumped the contents of the box onto the table in front of him, everyone sucked in a breath.

“Oh my gods — ”

“Leo, how did you — ”  
“Are you trying to _poison_ me with emotion — ”

“This is beautiful.” Paul breathed, and everyone in the room stopped to look at him. He stood from his chair, dropping onto his knees in front of the table to examine the nine miniature scrapbooks. Each had a name plastered across the front in bright, loud font and a small stick figure drawing. The bottom of the front cover read “OUR COLLECTIVE JOURNEY THROUGH HELL, DOCUMENTED BY THE TACO TYPHOON. Disclaimer: does not include literal hell, as your photographer wasn’t there to take high quality pictures and I doubt Big T did the honors.”

Nine pairs of eyes locked on Leo, who looked very uncomfortable.

“I just thought, you know…” He lowered his eyes and fidgeted with the hem of his sweater. “We should all have a way to remember everything. The good, the bad, the really,  _ really _ bad…” Everyone laughed at that, and Frank dropped an amen, brother. “I got one for Piper, too, ‘cause I didn’t know if she’d be here, and one for…” His voice cut out. “I got one for Thalia. I knew she wouldn’t be here, but I figure the Hunters have to have a shipping address, so…”

“I’ll make sure she gets it.” Reyna promised. “And Piper, too.”

“Oh, Leo…” Hazel sniffled, grappling onto Leo and locking him in a tight hug.

“Also,” Leo said, “I brought some soda to pour on his grave, so there’s that to look forward to. And if we’re feeling a little bit  _ adventurous, _ I also have — ”

“Thank you, Leo,” Annabeth rolled her eyes. Her eyes were misty, like all the others in the room. Sally was tempted to call for a group hug right here, right now. “I’m sure Jason will appreciate the gesture.”

“Hear, hear.” Percy said, raising a fake glass.

Hours later, when the apartment was nearly empty, Sally thought she could hear a chorus of laughter echoing through the halls — seven demigods who’d grown up too fast, and the memory of one who would _ never _ be forgotten.

A Merry Christmas at the Jackson household, indeed. And Sally couldn’t wait for next year.

**Author's Note:**

> i love paul blofis


End file.
